Embers
by TheDarkUnknown
Summary: Burn...fire...embers... When the flames start, they are weak. Then you feed it with fuel, it grows bright. But in the end, it eventually dies, leaving only ash and a few embers. Embers that glow faintly amongst the blackest of ashes. My version of what happened after Eliza read the Reynolds Pamphlet. (A very long one-shot)


_What was she doing?_ Eliza asked this question to herself over and over, yet she made no attempt to answer it nor do something about the actions that the question spurred. It was as if her body had a mind of its own, acting on the anger and pain she felt that moment. Soon, she found herself in front of the fireplace, holding her small wooden chest which contained his love letters.

 _Love_. She scoffed at the word, kneeling on the floor and opening the chest. She scanned the first letter quickly, her hand tightening its hold on the paper, causing it to crumple. Alexander had this talent to captivate and charm people with his words, and Eliza knew that this was one of the reasons why she fell in love with the man. Even back when he was serving in the war, he had made her feel as if he was standing beside her through his letters. His words flooded her entire being, hypnotising her and making her feel so helpless. When they were still courting, Alexander had painted vivid pictures in her mind of what their life would be. She believed him. Every single word he said and wrote, she believed. She should have listened to Angelica when she told her to be careful.

Before she could change her mind, she tossed the first letter he had written her into the flames. The fire ate at the paper greedily, and Eliza felt satisfaction at seeing the words crumble into ashes. She did the same with the other letters, scanning the pages briefly, then tossing them into the flames. She did this over and over, until she was left with nothing but her empty wooden chest.

"Betsey?" she heard his voice somewhere behind her.

Eliza wiped at her face, not having realised that she was crying until he arrived. She turned her head to look at him, her face blank but her eyes red and puffy.

She felt the pain in her chest worsen. There in the doorway, Alexander stood, still looking like the man she fell in love with. She didn't see a cheater. She didn't see a liar. Or maybe, she just didn't want to see. God, it frustrated her that despite what he did, she still felt unadulterated love and helplessness toward him. She was still furious at him, yes, but she couldn't help but think that maybe she was also at fault why he had cheated on her.

"Betsey, what are you…" Alexander said, but he faltered when he saw the empty chest in her hands. He took a step forward, and his eyes were wide as he stared at the fire, as if willing the letters to come back.

"We were out of firewood," Eliza said in a straight tone, betraying no emotion though her heart was bursting inside. Of course this was a lie, and an attempt to hurt him more than he already was at seeing the letters he wrote her gone.

"Eliza, I...I'm sorry, I really am. I had to publish the pamphlet, or else I would have lost my job. Then, we would have suffered. I did this for…for us…" he finished lamely, realising how stupid that sounded now.

Eliza looked at him with cold fury in her eyes. "For us? So we wouldn't suffer? Damn you, Alexander! I'd rather suffer financially than…than…oh, damn you! I can't even look at you! You'll sleep in your office starting tonight. I am no longer your wife, you forfeit all rights to my heart the moment you laid your hands on that girl! Damn you! Damn you, Alexander Hamilton!"

She stormed up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door behind her. Now that she was alone, she let the tears spill as she rocked herself back and forth. God, what happened to their lives?

* * *

She awoke to the pain on her neck and back the next morning. Eliza rubbed the sleep from her eyes, finding that she had slept on the floor with her back against the door. She stood up, and after taking a few calming breaths, headed downstairs to face the day.

As she passed Alexander's office, she heard no sound coming from behind the door. There was no sound downstairs either. She guessed that Alexander was still asleep, and she was grateful for that, for she did not know how to face him.

She washed her face, and then prepared a small breakfast for herself consisting of bread, butter, and tea. The house was silent, for the children were with Angelica while things were still tense in the Hamilton household.

Eliza thought about the day she had found out about Alexander's affair.

* * *

She was dressed in a casual dress, holding a small basket. She intended to go the market that day to pick up a few supplies the maid had forgotten. When she reached the door, she heard her eldest child call to her from the stairs.

"Mom!" Philip said, hurrying down the stairs, followed by Angie, his younger sister.

"Sweetheart, I was just about to go to the market. Would you like me to pick up something for you? How about you, Angie?" Eliza asked her children, a small and gentle smile gracing her lips.

The two Hamilton children glanced at each other briefly, then Philip stepped forward and attempted to take the basket from his mother's hands.

"Mom, how about I go instead? You should rest, you know. You always do these kind of things for us. I'll go."

Eliza let out a small chuckle as her oldest child tugged at the basket. Her day had gone so good so far, so she didn't notice the frantic look in Philip and Angie's eyes. "That's sweet, Pip. But it's so beautiful outside, and a small walk would do me good."

"But, Mom—"

She ducked out of the door, still laughing to herself, and before Philip could finish what he was saying.

When she reached the market, she felt stares boring into her back and heard hushed whispers. She was used to this kind of attention, having to deal with it as a teenager, being a Schuyler sister after all; and soon after she married Alexander.

But this kind of attention was a bit…different. She couldn't quite place how so. The hushed whispers had a meaner key to them, and the stares made her uncomfortable in a different way.

As she stopped in front of the first stall she came upon, she heard some more distinct words, but the meaning behind them was still unclear.

"Does…know? ...poor…can't handle…cheated…"

* * *

A noise on the stairs caused her to jump a bit on her chair, spilling some tea on her lap. She hissed as the hot liquid seeped into her dress and reached the skin on her legs. She patted at her lap to try and ease the pain, and before she knew it, Alexander was kneeling in front of her, blowing on her lap and wiping a towel on her dress.

She could only stare at her husband as he tried to help her. Oh, how she longed to run her hands through his hair, but before she could, she stopped herself. Did Maria Reynolds run her hands through Alexander's hair when they had dragon-snaked together? She shook her head and stood up, nearly trampling over her husband.

"Betsey, are you alright?"

She didn't answer him, and she proceeded to walk upstairs. She couldn't even look at her own husband without thinking about…that other girl. Will she ever remove the pictures he had vividly painted in her mind when he wrote about his affair?

Before she knew it, night had arrived. She had lost perception of time in her current distraught state. She sat on the floor, not wanting to have any contact with the bed where Alexander had cheated on her with Maria Reynolds.

Eliza stood up, and grabbed her copy of the damned Reynolds Pamphlet. The cursed thing was thrown at her by some catty upper-class lady while she was walking through the market.

* * *

"Have you read this?" a high society lady approached her, shoving a thick document at her.

"Nice to see you, too, Marguerite," Eliza grumbled at the woman. She glanced at the document in her hands, not bothering to look at the title. "What is this?"

"Ah, so you don't know, do you? Poor thing," Marguerite gave her a look of amusement and pity. "Go ahead and find out what your husband had done."

With that, she stalked off, and Eliza noticed that the whispers grew louder. She felt more uncomfortable at the attention she was receiving, so she hurried home, not bothering to complete the items in her grocery list.

"Poor woman…doesn't know…scorned…"

She threw open the door, and she collapsed on the couch and began to read. She saw Alexander's name on the front page, and she thought, "Alexander, what did you do this time?"

At first, she thought that her husband had done something impulsive once more, and this time, he had gone too far. Or maybe he had another disagreement with Jefferson or Burr, causing a legal action against him. Or maybe…

" _The charge against me is a connection with one James Reynolds, for purposes of improper pecuniary speculation. My real crime is an amorous connection with his wife, for a considerable time with his privity and connivance, if not originally brought on by a combination between the husband and wife with the design to extort money from me..."_

Eliza's hands shook as she struggled to continue reading. An affair… her husband had an affair with a twenty-something year-old and he didn't bother to tell her **;** instead, telling the whole world of his unfaithfulness in great detail without shame. And the fact that she had to find out from other people only added more to the pain.

"Mom?" she heard Philip say.

"Hush now," Eliza said, her voice a little hoarse and sharp. Her breathing was coming out in short gasps.

Her children said nothing, and she felt the couch dip under the weight of her babies. Her precious children. How could Alexander do this to them? To her?

She felt Philip and Angelica embrace her, and she could feel her shoulders getting wet from their tears. They stayed quiet, while Eliza tried to finish the 98 pages Alexander had published.

" _This confession is not made without a blush. I cannot be the apologist of any vice because the ardour of passion may have made it mine. I can never cease to condemn myself for the pang, which it may inflict in a bosom eminently entitled to all my gratitude, fidelity and love. But that bosom will approve, that even at so great an_ _expense_ _, I should effectually wipe away a more serious stain from a name, which it cherishes with no less elevation than tenderness…."_

* * *

A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts. She glanced down at her hands, where the pamphlet was still resting unopened. Eliza stood up, and hid the document before pressing her ear against the door.

Another knock.

"Betsey…please, just hear me out. I—I know I'm impulsive and I tend to act before thinking of the consequences. But believe me when I say that I know everything is a mistake, and if I could turn back time, I wouldn't have done it. Maria—she was so helpless, and I just couldn't say no. Betsey…"

Eliza shook from rage and sorrow. She refused to make a sound; she refused to even acknowledge him.

Alexander took a deep breath. "Betsey, I love you. I'm sorry. Please, Betsey, come out. Talk to me. Yell at me, slap me, hit me, or whatever you need to do. Please. I can't stand seeing you like that. Betsey…"

He almost fell forward when the door suddenly opened. There, his wife stood, eyes puffy and nose red, but still looking beautiful as ever. He stepped forward, but she took a step back to match his own.

"Betsey…" he said, uncertainly, but with a tinge of hope at seeing her outside the door.

Eliza brushed past him, not saying anything. He stood next to the door, watching her descend the stairs. With a small shake of his head, he decided to follow her.

Alexander saw Eliza enter the bathroom, and then shut the door with a loud bang. He sighed, and then he sat in front of the door waiting for her.

When Eliza emerged, her hair was wet and her skin was red, showing the signs of intense scrubbing. She was wrapped in a silk robe, and once she saw Alexander sitting on the floor outside the bathroom, looking up at her with those damned eyes, she couldn't help but let a few tears fall from her eyes.

"Betsey…"

"No…don't say anything. Please. Just leave me alone," she whispered, practically running up the stairs and into the safety of her bedroom.

Once inside, she let herself break down once again, her chest heaving as she struggled to control herself. _Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf..._ Eliza shakily got to her feet, and after a few more shaky breaths, she headed to her closet and took out a fresh, clean dress. As she put it on, she couldn't help but wonder when Alexander had last taken a bath. Had he even eaten something yet?

She decided to push her concerns to the back of her mind, and she opened her closet and took out a couple of dresses and stuffed them in a bag. She couldn't stand to stay in the house, and she decided to go away for a while to ease her pain.

But as she packed the last of her dresses, she paused and thought that her leaving would cause people to think she was divorcing her husband. Was she going to file a divorce? Truthfully, she didn't know, for she loves Alexander, but their relationship has been tainted. If things will continue on like this, maybe she will go through with her plan. After all, people expected the scorned wife to leave her unfaithful husband.

Eliza shook her head, vowing to let things take their time before doing anything rash. She opened the bedroom door, and she found Alexander standing there.

"Betsey…" he started, but stopped when he saw the bag.

"Betsey…you're leaving? I—I…if you want to…but I don't…" he stammered.

Eliza stared at him with pain in her eyes. Her husband, who was always so quick with words, was now reduced to a stammering mess, and was sobbing in front of her. Before she knew it, tears were also falling from her eyes, and she stood there, watching as Alexander let out heart-wrenching sobs. Oh, how she longed to take him in her arms, and pretend that everything was just as they were before.

"Eliza…I love you," he said.

She stepped forward, dropped the bag on the floor, and pulled Alexander's face towards her own. She rested her forehead on his, and she gave him a kiss. It was full of passion and longing, but at the same time, it was hesitant and restrained. When they finally broke apart, Alexander was looking at her with hope. Just seeing him looking at her like that was more than she can handle, and Eliza felt her knees buckle under her. If it weren't for Alexander's arms around her, she would have fell on the floor.

She cried. She cried in front of her husband. They were now seated on the floor, with Alexander's arms still around her, and she struggled to get out of his hold. But she was too weak, too shaken up to actually fight him off of her.

For a few moments, nothing could be held in the household except Eliza's heart-wrenching sobs, and Alexander's hushed pleas. She slapped at her husband's chest repeatedly, with her face buried in his shoulder. She was sure she looked like a mess. She didn't want him to see her like this. She never wants him to see her like this, yet…she was so damned helpless. She was so pathetic.

It was all her fault. Maybe if she had been more attentive to him…? Or maybe if she actually pried him off his work and made him take that damned break…? Or maybe…

"It's all my fault," she sobbed, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Alexander pulled away quickly, and held her face in his hands. "Oh, God, no. Betsey, no. It's not your fault. Please, believe me. I was so stupid. It's all my fault. God, no don't blame yourself. Betsey, no…"

He continued muttering and cursing himself, all the while brushing her hair with his hands and shedding tears. Eliza relished in the feeling of his arms around her, desperately trying to pretend that the affair and the pamphlet never happened. Was she really a horrible wife not to shower her own husband with forgiveness and understanding? God, what was she to do? She didn't want to file a divorce, yet it still hurts to be with him. She didn't think that she'll ever erase the thoughts of him with that other woman.

Eliza pushed away, and roughly grabbing her husband's face, planted a kiss filled with so much passion and longing that left Alexander breathless.

When oxygen became necessary, they pulled away, their foreheads touching. Tears were still pouring from her eyes. "I hate you," she said.

"Betsey…" Alexander breathed, but he was cut off by her lips crashing unto his once more.

With great effort, they pulled away, and Eliza stared into the eyes of her husband. Her fucking husband. Her amazing, lovable, frustrating, irritating, adorable Alexander. Her greatest enigma, the only man who could make her feel so helpless and at the same time, the most powerful woman in the world.

"I hate you," she said again, still staring into his eyes. Her voice trembled a little, and it was quite evident in her tone that she was trying to convince herself, rather than stating a fact.

"I hate you, Alexander. I hate you so much," she said, shaking her head. She closed her eyes, and felt the stinging sensation of hot tears threatening to spill out of her eyelids. God, it hurts. It hurts so much.

Alexander kept silent, still holding her.

With great effort, Eliza turned her face to look into his eyes. She asked in a whisper, "Why?"

Her husband didn't say anything at first. He just continued to look at her face, as if etching every detail in his mind. When he answered, he bowed his head, not willing to look at her in his shame. "Because I was stupid. Because I couldn't say no. Because I was desperate for something I don't even know. Because I lost sight of the fact that I have been blessed with the best wife." He ended his rushed response with a shaky breath, and he took her hands in his and kissed them repeatedly.

Still, Eliza wasn't content with his answer. "I don't understand, Alexander. Was I not enough for you? Or do you not find me…" she hesitated. But when Alexander gave a small nod of encouragement for her to continue, she said, "…do you not find me desirable anymore?"

She buried her face in his chest, the tears still streaming from her face. She was so vulnerable in front of him, and she hated that.

"No, Eliza. Please, don't think that way. It was all my fault. I'm so sorry…Betsey…" he replied, whispering in her ear.

With that, he embraced her once more, and Eliza let him soothe her as she cried to release the overwhelming emotions she had been hiding since she found out about his affair.

When Eliza awoke, she was surprised to find herself in bed. She remembered that she wanted nothing to do with the stupid bed where her husband had cheated on her. But as she tried to get up, she became aware that she wasn't alone. An arm on her stomach and strands of hair that weren't hers only proved this.

She turned her head to look at Alexander, who was still fast asleep. The circles under his eyes seem darker, and his cheekbones were more prominent and hollow. She scrunched her brows together in concern. The stubborn man had obviously not eaten a proper meal for a while, and she was damn sure that he hadn't been sleeping enough, too.

Alexander opened his eyes, and he looked up at her. Eliza's chest was heavy as she looked into those dark orbs, but she couldn't bring herself to look away.

"Betsey," he said.

"Good morning, Alexander," she replied. It was the first greeting she gave him in a month. They hadn't spoken of course, not since she read the pamphlet with Philip and Angelica crying on her shoulders.

Alexander sat up, and he placed his hand softly on her bare arm. He didn't say anything, but his eyes were searching for any sign in hers whether he should or shouldn't stay silent.

Finding no sign of anger, or disapproval, or anything that signalled him to keep his mouth shut, Alexander said, "Betsey…can we talk? I mean, like, talk properly?"

Eliza closed her eyes for a moment before replying, "Okay." She then sat up, a hand keeping the sheets pulled to her chest to cover her modestly.

Alexander fiddled with his hand. He was silent for a few moments before he began, "Eliza, I'm so stupid."

She stayed quiet and waited for him to continue.

"I shouldn't have cheated on you, and I was incredibly foolish to lose sight of the fact that I have been blessed with the best of wives and best of women. No amount of apologising can change the past, and no amount of honeyed words can erase your pain. I know that. But I want you to know how much I regret that, and how I want to fix all of this. I love you, Eliza. I'm so sorry. Please, give me a chance to make up to you."

He looked down at his hands, and he took her free hand in his own.

Eliza was surprised that not a single tear made its way down her cheek. She was so tired of crying. She was so tired of being angry and hurt.

"Alexander, I love you. And I still do. I love you so much, it hurts, you know? I can't stay like this. But I need you to tell me: why publish the whole thing? So you could clear your name? Is that it? That was a rumour, Alex. A rumour that you've been using the government's funds, and not many people even knew about it. Gosh, I don't think anyone believed it. Did you not think how that pamphlet might have affected us?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper. She really was tired.

"I'll admit, I didn't think ahead, Betsey. In my mind, I was doing the right thing, and that I was saving you from the shame of having a husband who was accused of being a scoundrel. I'm so fucking stupid, I know that now, Eliza."

"Yes. Yes, you're so stupid. You're so stupid. Do you know how I got that pamphlet? I was walking in the market, Alexander, and then some woman threw it at me. People were whispering. People were staring. And Philip and Angie, they cried. They cried, Alexander. They were so hurt…" Eliza said, her voice broken and hoarse. Her eyes were watery and red, yet no tears fell.

Alexander took her hand and kissed it repeatedly. He was the one who was crying now, and Eliza closed her eyes as she felt her husband's tears fall on the back of her palm. "I'm so sorry, Betsey…I'm sorry…"

She lifted his head so that he was facing her, and she kissed his forehead. "I'm tired, Alexander."

He just looked at her.

"I'm so tired. I'm tired of being angry and being hurt and…I'm just tired," she said.

Alexander kissed her on the lips, and Eliza felt that somehow, her being tired wouldn't be so much of a problem. She melted against him, and she let herself feel safe in his embrace.

When they pulled apart, he said, "I'm here for you, Elizabeth Hamilton. Let me make it up to you."

Eliza couldn't help but give a small chuckle. Her eyes were drooping and her vision was foggy. "It's been only a month, Alex. Don't you think I need more time to heal?" she said.

Her husband smiled at her, "Perhaps so, Betsey. You need time, but I'll be here for you as you heal. I'll be good." But Alexander quickly added in a serious tone, "I'm serious, Eliza. I'll be good. I'll make it up to you."

Eliza nodded weakly. "I love you, Alexander."

Alexander rested his chin on top of her head. "I love you, too. I don't deserve you. You're so forgiving, and I promise to show you love and loyalty. I'll make it up to you."

"Alex, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Betsey. Please. Don't ever apologise to me. God, I should be the one to say that. It's all my fault. Not yours, okay? You're the best of wives, ever. I'll make it up to you."

Alexander felt Eliza slump against him, and he held her closer to him. She must have fell asleep. Everything that happened the past month had been emotionally exhausting. She was just tired…

But something felt wrong. Her skin was clammy and cold. Alexander shifted so he could see his wife's face.

Oh, God… she was so pale. "Betsey?"

Nothing.

He rested her on the pillows once more, and felt for a pulse. With his other hand, he wiped the strands of hair that clung to her sweat-beaded forehead. "God, Betsey… please, be alright. Please…"

Alexander felt his eyes water and his breaths come faster and heavier. Eliza's heartbeat was slow and weak, and her skin was so pale, and her usually red lips were fading into a dull bluish-purple.

Throwing on some quick clothes, he searched for one of Eliza's simpler dresses. He dressed her in a simple white sleeping gown, then carried her sheets and all, towards the doctor's house a block away.

 _God, let her be okay. Let her be okay. I can't lose her. Please…_

Eliza was faintly aware of her husband muttering under his breath as he carried her in his arms. Life was really cruel. The pills' effect were slow, and now she was suffering from downing the contents of that bottle. She only hoped that if she didn't make it, Alexander would find the empty medicine bottle in the bathroom and throw it away. She didn't want Philip and Angie knowing about what she had done. She really was pathetic. She was so pathetic and so helpless and...

"Alexander, I love you…"

And then the world turned black.


End file.
